It Smells Like Coming Home
by PiePrincess-andthe-FallenAngel
Summary: "Are you okay, Derek?" "Derek? Is that my name?" He woke up surrounded by teenagers. They said they were his pack, but he couldn't remember them, couldn't remember his own name. And then there was the beautiful, gawky boy. A boy that he wished he could remember. Because he smelt perfect and safe and like home. He smelt like he was Derek's, so how could he possibly be anything but?


**Okay, first thing's first; this is based on a fanart by doodlebug18 on tumblr the link will be posted on my profile shortly. Second thing is this was meant to be a cute little failwolf oneshot but it got **_**so out of hand**_**. I did not plan for it to be more than 2500 words or have so much angst… sorry about that, it seems I really **_**can't**_** write a fic without angst.**

**Also, this has currently not been completely beta'd. I promised my followers on Instagram to post today but my beta was really busy with exams and bitchy flatmates. **

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His eyes flew open, startled by a loud noise.

He was lying on a bed in an undecorated loft and it took him a moment to realise the noise that had woken him up was the slam of a door being flung open. He could hear people shouting, arguing, nearby. But there was no-one in sight. He slowly, quietly, got off the bed, ready to go in search of the voices. He tried desperately to remember _something_: where he was, _who_ he was. But he got nothing for his efforts.

The boy in the other room, who was shouting for answers, was shushed and silence followed. As the man who had just woken up slowly walked around a wall that separated the bedroom from the remainder of the open-plan loft, he just had to hope that some of these people would be able to answer his questions. He got around the corner and was greeted by several people staring at him. The silence stretched for a little longer until one boy wearing a plaid shirt elbowed another boy that had an uneven jaw, who took a step forward and spoke.

"Are you okay, Derek?"

"Derek?" He asked in reply. "Is that my name?"

Everyone in the room suddenly looked a mixture of shocked and terrified. And he could smell it somehow. The fear radiated in the room – it was disconcerting. He rolled his name around for a little while in his head. It did sound familiar but it also didn't. The memories were just out of his reach.

"You don't remember your name?" Plaid boy asked eventually and Derek recognised his voice as being the one who was shouting moments ago. Derek shook his head. "Do you remember anything?"

"No."

Everyone in the room seemed uncertain and after a few seconds they began to turn to the boy with the uneven jaw as though he had all the answers. Derek sure hoped he did.

"We need Deaton," the boy said eventually and everyone nodded.

"I'll get him," Plaid boy volunteered and the boy with the uneven jaw smiled at him in agreement.

"What about us?" A girl with long blond hair who was wearing a lot of leather asked. "What can we do?"

"We're going to fill him in on everything."

[] [] []

Stiles was… well, he was freaking out. Derek couldn't remember _anything_. They were being threatened by a witch and now they had lost one of their main players. He really hoped Derek could fight without his memories, because they _needed_ him.

Stiles replayed Derek's words in his head over and over again. 'Is that my name' he'd said… is that my _freaking name_. Also known as the words that had broken Stiles' heart. He and Derek had been through so much since they had first met. Stiles had been able to prove himself as more than just some hyperactive teenager and they had built a rapport. And now Derek had forgotten. Stiles just hoped that everything between them wouldn't go back to how it had been when they first met and Derek had hated him.

But it hadn't even been _just_ that. Not really. What had really broken Stiles' heart was how Derek had looked. There was actual emotions on his face, but not the ones of happiness and love that Stiles had always hoped to see. No. These emotions were of sadness and fear. Derek had looked young and vulnerable. Stiles had just wanted to hug the guy. And _that_ is the main reason he'd had to leave.

Stiles climbed out of the car and strode into the clinic, Deaton walked into view a few moments later when he heard the door open. The vet frowned at Stiles.

"There's a bit of an emergency," Stiles said and Deaton nodded for him to continue. "I wasn't there so I don't know the full story, but Scott said that last night they were out chasing the witch and Derek got in her way," _because he's a self-sacrificing asshole who doesn't think about how getting himself killed would affect everyone else_, "and she zapped him with… _something_. He fell down and only woke up about half an hour ago. And he doesn't remember anything," Stiles summarised.

"I'll get my bag and I'll see what I can do," Deaton replied after a few seconds.

[] [] []

Derek listened as Scott explained to him about werewolves and pack (which apparently everyone in this room was). Then they explained about the witch and her spell she had cast on him – which they were assuming was the cause of his memory loss.

Derek was confused and sceptical… until Erica wolfed out in front of him as proof. That had been… pretty cool, actually.

Plaid boy eventually came back to the loft with a dark-skinned man, who had to be the Deaton he'd been told about. Derek didn't miss the irony that the guy was a vet. Derek's eyes skimmed over the vet and then landed back on Plaid boy. No-one had got around to telling him this boy's name yet and that was unfortunate because the boy was _seriously_ attractive. Derek hadn't noticed before, probably because he was freaking out too much, but now he could barely look away.

The boy was tall and skinny but with some obvious muscle definition. His nose was cute and button-like, his smile was just mesmerising – even though, right now, it seemed… not quite right. Like he was just putting on a brave face. Maybe he was worried? The thought of this beautiful boy being worried over Derek made his heart squeeze. He wanted to know Plaid boy's name and he was just about to ask when Deaton started talking.

"Alright, Derek. Other than the memory loss, how are you feeling?"

"Fine… I think."

"You don't ache or feel ill?" Deaton asked again and Derek shook his head – he felt just fine. The vet nodded, stepping closer and the pack took a few steps back to give them some space. "What about the shift? Have you tried it yet?"

"No," Derek replied, suddenly very interested.

"We thought we should wait for you before trying anything," Scott mentioned and Deaton nodded his head.

"Probably for the best. Now, Derek, we need to make sure that the witch's spell didn't have any other effects; so I'm going to coach you through a few things. Is that okay?" Derek nodded. "Good. We'll start with something simple. How's your sense of smell?"

"Erm… good?" Derek replied after a pause, confused.

"Try closing your eyes and take a few deep breaths; in through your nose, out through your mouth." Derek followed his instructions, concentrating on all the different scents around him. They had been more or less like background noise to him up until this point, but now he was bringing them forward and paying attention to them. Deaton was still talking but Derek wasn't really listening anymore. The loft they were in was his – Scott had told him. But now he _knew_ that it was his. It was hard to describe exactly how it smelt, but it smelt like safety and protection. That smell relaxed Derek more than he thought he should be without his memories and surrounded by supernatural creatures.

He reached out further with his senses then. Everyone in the room had their individual scents – mixed with perfumes, aftershaves and deodorants – but they all, except from Deaton, also shared a similar scent too. It smelt warm and sweet like honey, but also calming like grass after the rain. It smelt like pack, he decided happily. Derek was about to open his eyes and declare his victory when he realised that the scent of home wasn't just coming from his loft, but also from the boy in plaid.

He inhaled deeper to be certain and smiled. The boy smelt _amazing_; he wasn't wearing any aftershave so his natural scent came through a lot clearer. He smelt like a cluster of emotions mixed with sugary energy and something deeper… muskier, that could be picked apart into a million different flavours. Derek wanted to take his time and decipher every different scent that surrounded this boy. He wondered idly if he already _had_ done. But one smell the boy was giving off was obvious. This boy was _his_ – Derek didn't doubt it.

When Derek _did_ open his eyes, he looked over Deaton's shoulder and directly at Plaid boy, whose scent shifted a little bit – tinged with a something a little deeper and darker. Derek breathed it in and wanted to groan. The boy smelt like _lust_. There was only one thing that was keeping Derek from jumping up and reclaiming his boy and that was the sudden odd feeling in his eyes. They didn't hurt, they just felt… strange. Derek rubbed at them but Deaton pulled his hand away again.

"It's okay. You just got a little caught up and partially shifted," Deaton said.

"Oh," was all Derek could say in reply. He remembered how Erica's eyes had flashed yellow when she'd shifted and he nodded. Now he was paying attention he realised he could see sharper now too. He allowed himself a moment to calm down and the sharpness dimmed once again.

Deaton continued to coach Derek through several more enhanced senses and the stages of his shift before he was happy enough that Derek was physically unharmed. The vet left soon after that, promising to look into ways to return his memory.

The banshee, Lydia, sat on the sofa next to him as Scott and the boy in plaid walked Deaton outside. Derek sighed, Scott had told him the basic information of Deaton and everyone who had been in the room. But Plaid boy _hadn't _been in the room. And, now, the only person he didn't know anything about was the one guy he wanted to learn about. Derek stiffened as he heard a crash from below. He jumped up to his feet when he registered the sounds of a fight going on. All the other werewolves in the room were alert too.

They all bolted out of the loft door and down the stairs without a second thought, leaving a confused Lydia shouting questions and trailing after them. Scott was fighting off three attackers while another one knocked Deaton out cold. Plaid boy was down on the floor and looking on in horror as the fight carried out. He seemed mainly unharmed and so Derek set his sights on the attackers instead. By all accounts it should be easy for five werewolves to fight off four humans… these obviously weren't human. They weren't werewolves either. Witches, his mind supplied for him, these must be members of the coven he'd been warned about.

It wasn't long, though, before he heard the boy in plaid gasp out in pain. Derek slammed the witch he was fighting into the ground immediately and shot his head around. Two more witches had arrived without his noticing and now the boy was being dragged up, his arm twisted behind his back, by one as the other held a large and threatening knife towards him.

Derek couldn't control himself. He roared. He roared so loud that the glass shook in the cars parked a few feet away. Then he pounced. He ripped the two witches off the boy and flung him over his own shoulder protectively. Derek shifted back to his human appearance as he growled his words out.

"Don't touch my human."

Everyone around him had stopped fighting. The two that had been trying to harm plaid boy stared for a few seconds before fleeing along with the only one of the four original attackers that was still conscious.

The boy who was slung over his shoulder began to squirm and Derek placed him down, but he didn't let go of his shoulders as he checked for injuries.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked softly and the boy nodded. Derek smiled lightly before becoming aware that all the eyes of the pack were on the two of them. Derek looked up and then frowned. They were all gawping at him in various stages of shock and amusement. Lydia was the only exception and she was just face-palming. Derek didn't understand their reactions. Did they not know? Was his relationship with this boy a secret?

"_Your human_?" The boy spluttered out eventually, questioning his choice of words, and Derek made eye contact with him again.

"Well… I don't know your name," he replied, shyly.

"Stiles… I'm Stiles," the boy, _Stiles_, murmured and Derek's face split into a dazzling grin. That name sounded seamless. It just fit perfectly and left Derek's chest aching with happiness. But then Derek registered Stiles' expression and his face started to fall because… because he didn't understand.

Stiles smelt perfect and safe and like _home_. He smelt like he was Derek's so how could he be anything but? It just didn't make any sense. However, neither did werewolves, he supposed. And every second that Derek spent looking at the shocked faces of Stiles and his pack was just another second that forced him to realise that he'd been wrong.

Stiles cleared his throat and Derek took a step back, releasing his hold on the boy. He suddenly felt so sad. Nothing made sense anymore.

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Derek had closed off and Stiles had watched it happen. Stiles was the _reason_ it had happened. He'd felt like he was going to cry in that moment. But he somehow held it in. Scott had been a good friend and distracted the pack with orders to carry Deaton inside, tie up the three witches and call Chris to deal with them. Derek followed along with the other betas and it killed Stiles. It killed him because all he wanted to do was hold onto him and tell him that he loved him. He didn't know when he'd fallen in love with him. It had been a slow build and then suddenly he realised that all he wanted was to just see Derek smile because of something he'd said. That was his life goal. But now that it had happened he felt like he was going to be sick. Because it wasn't supposed to happen this way. That breath-taking grin that Derek had given him after learning his name… it was under false pretences. Derek had only acted that way because he thought they were together.

And Stiles wasn't sure how Derek had come to that conclusion, maybe he'd smelt Stiles' arousal when he'd flashed his blue eyes at him? But whatever it was, Stiles had no proof that Derek would still like him after he got his memories back. And Stiles was a coward, okay? He wouldn't be able to cope with the pain of Derek's rejection if he let himself be with him now.

Stiles sighed as he thought all of this through for the millionth time. He was sitting in his jeep outside Derek's apartment because Deaton was currently in there performing a ritual on Derek to give him his memories back. It had been three days since Derek had lost them. Three days since Stiles had last seen him (like he'd stated earlier, he was a coward). Deaton had told everyone to stay away during the ritual but Stiles was too anxious. He wanted to be the first person in there after Deaton left – it was a further half an hour until that happened.

Stiles took a deep breath and climbed out of his jeep. Now he had his chance to talk to Derek, he was suddenly terrified. He bit down on his worries and forced himself to move forward. He took the lift up to his loft because his heart was racing fast and hard enough without tackling _that many_ stairs, thank you very much. But he had to do it now rather than later – he expected Isaac would be there soon to see if Deaton's counter-spell had worked and Stiles would prefer not to have an audience for this.

Derek opened the door to his loft seconds after Stiles knocked. One of his eyebrows was raised in question and Stiles smiled lightly. He just _knew_ that Derek had his memories back.

"Stiles?" He asked as if nothing had happened. As if Stiles hadn't been avoiding him for days.

"Hey… so you have your memories back?" He asked to be sure and Derek nodded. He tried to smile bigger but it just felt fake – hopefully it was convincing enough.

"Yeah… look, if you're here about what happened the other day," Derek started and paused.

"I just think we should talk about it, you know, now that you actually remember me and-"

"Don't worry," Derek said forcefully and successfully managed to stop Stiles mid-sentence. "I was confused, I don't know what was going through my head. But I'm back to normal now and you don't need to worry about it."

The easy rejection cut Stiles like a knife and tore his heart from his chest

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Stiles was sitting on his bed and staring at the 'critically low battery' warning on his laptop, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to get up for his charger. He sighed and shut it down instead, then slipped further down his bed so he was lying down and pulled the covers over his head. He was heartbroken. Derek Hale had broken his heart and he didn't even know. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Stiles couldn't decide. On one hand, Derek wasn't pitying him. On the other, he didn't know he'd caused Stiles pain and so wasn't feeling guilty. The bastard should be _drowning_ in guilt right now.

Stiles' phone buzzed with a message from Scott, asking if he was feeling any better and if he'd be back in school tomorrow.

Stiles' excuse had been he was coming down with the flu and his Dad hadn't even questioned it when he told him he was ill – _that_ is how bad he looked. Stiles responded to the whatsapp message and planned to put his phone back down and wallow some more in his misery. But then his eyes caught Derek's name and he instead began to scroll through their last twenty conversations while muttering compliments about his beauty and intelligence and sarcasm while simultaneously insulting him with varying degrees of rudeness. Stiles was feeling very conflicted.

He heard a noise on the staircase and frowned as he checked the time on his phone. His Dad had only left for work a couple of hours ago and wasn't due home again for another five. Stiles sat up in his bed and listened closer. Yep. That was definitely the sound of someone walking up the stairs.

"Dad?" Stiles called out, but he heard no reply. "Are you home?" His heart was beating faster in his chest at this point. The person had reached the top of the stairs and was on the landing when Stiles slid out of his bed. It was the middle of the day – no-one was idiotic enough to break into the _Sheriff's_ house in the _middle of the day_. If it wasn't his Dad then it _had_ to be the pack. They were just playing a joke on him – trying to scare the human. Still, Stiles held his phone in one hand and grabbed for his bat with the other when the footsteps stopped outside of his room.

The door handle twitched and his bedroom door slowly began to creak open. But no-one was on the other side. Stiles gripped his phone tighter and unlocked it because no,_ nuh-uh_, he was _not_ going to be that person in the first twenty seconds of Supernatural. Stiles was scrolling through his contacts while keeping an eye on the landing outside of his bedroom door when he heard the subtle thump behind him.

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Derek was doing one handed push-up when his phone began to ring. It had been quite a week and exercise was one of the only things he could do to get his mind off everything. Over the past two years, every time Derek had thought about telling Stiles the truth of how he felt – he'd never imagined it would be like this. He'd assumed he would have some control over the situation. He had never thought that the truth about how much he loved the teenager would come out because he had his memory wiped and just _assumed_ that Stiles already knew. Derek cringed to himself every time his mind wandered back to that moment. He'd been so _stupid_. And then Stiles had left and not come back until Derek's memories had returned. And, after _that_ reaction, it was obvious that Stiles didn't love Derek back. Derek hadn't been all that surprised though – Stiles lusted after him (that wasn't too hard to figure out. Even if Derek hadn't realised that the semi-constant smell of lust Stiles emitted was directed at him, he'd overheard the teenager called him '_bangable_' enough times) but his feelings didn't go much further than that. Derek sighed and pulled himself up, reaching for his phone and pressing accept without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" Derek asked into the silence on the other end of the line. But no-one replied. He frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear to see who had rang him. "Stiles?" Derek asked a little more urgently. He listened closely with his werewolf senses but there was nothing but silence on the other end. No rustling, no movement, no _breathing_. Derek didn't think, he just pocketed his phone and _ran_.

He ran all the way to Stiles' house with his heart in his throat and climbed into his bedroom through the window. No-one was home and Stiles' room looked untouched, but his jeep was still outside. Derek, knowing that Stiles had been at home ill, almost moved on to inspect the rest of the house when he saw the phone. It was half-hidden under Stiles' bedside table and the only thing that was out of place. Stiles wouldn't have left it, or his jeep, behind.

It had to be the witches.

Derek growled deep in his throat. He couldn't help it. He'd warned them once already not to touch Stiles. If one hair on Stiles' head was harmed… then he would kill them all.

Derek snapped into action and rang Argent. He needed to know what those witches wanted with Stiles.

[] [] []

Stiles woke up tied to a chair. He wasn't surprised. What he _was_ surprised about, however, was that he was in a house. No lair or abandoned warehouse for _this_ coven. No, they apparently preferred to do their ritualised sacrificing in a cosier environment. And Stiles had to be honest with himself here, because there was no beating around the bush, he was going to get sacrificed. _God damn witches_. As if he wasn't having a bad enough week as it was.

"Oh good, you're awake," came a sickly sweet voice from behind him. It had to be the head witch, the leader of the coven that none of them had yet to meet. Stiles was a little surprised when she came into view and it turned out to _not_ be one of the teachers from his school… it seemed like he owed the new substitute, Ms. Lemon, an apology.

In fact, Stiles realised that this girl couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than him.

"Hi, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Stiles. I'd shake your hand but I'm a little tied up right now," Stiles snarked at her and the witch rolled her eyes.

"Oh I know who you are. You're the Spark… but we won't be needing introductions. You won't be seeing me again after today."

"Well, yeah. Death does kind of put a spanner into any plans for the future."

"I had heard you were smarter than this… such a disappointment," the girl muttered. "I mean sure, you were the original plan. But if I was going to kill you then I would have already done it. And if there is one thing more powerful for a ritual than sacrificing a Spark… it's sacrificing a werewolf who has mated with one." Stiles frowned. Mating? He would definitely know if he'd managed to get laid. He told the witch so much but she just rolled her eyes again. "I don't know if you're stupid or just playing it to save your werewolf. But it won't work, Derek should be here very soon."

Stiles stiffened at the witch's words. _Derek_. How had she known Stiles had rang Derek? He'd managed to throw the phone out of reach before he'd got captured. Stiles realised suddenly that it had to have been part of their plan. The noises on the staircase and the door that opened by itself… they were taunting him, they were trying to scare him into calling for help. And it had _worked_. Stiles had no doubt that Derek was trying to find him. They thought Derek was his mate, Stiles could only make an educated guess at what a mate _was_, but that was insane. Derek had spelled it out for him just a few days ago – he did not feel that way for Stiles.

Stiles realised that his only hope of saving Derek was to convince this witch of the truth, they weren't mated. They weren't _anything_.

"I'm not Derek's mate. I can't be. He doesn't even like me," Stiles insisted and the girl looked at him, calculating. "I'm nothing to him. Nothing more than a nuisance."

"You actually believe that don't you?" She said and shook her head. "He'd lost his memory, he wouldn't have been able to recognise his face in a mirror. But he _knew_ _you_. I have to admit, he's good at hiding it – I don't know why he does, but I would never have realised he'd chosen you as a mate if Charlotte hadn't cast that memory loss spell on him. But when I saw the way he acted around you… I had to call them back – change the plan. That protectiveness that he displayed, even though he had no more than a few hours of memories of you… it could only mean _mate_." Stiles watched her face as she spoke and, _God_, if he wasn't starting to believe her. Suddenly, the witch's face twitched into a smirk. "Isn't that right, Derek?" She called out, barely raising her voice to address the werewolf that Stiles _prayed_ wasn't actually anywhere near them.

"Let him go," came Derek's animalistic voice. He was obviously shifted. Stiles squirmed in the chair, trying to spot the werewolf.

"Gladly. You just need to surrender and Stiles can walk free."

Stiles saw him then, he walked in through the side door. Derek took one look at Stiles tied up on the chair and his face shifted back to human.

"You want me? I'm here. Let him go."

"Oh no you don't," Stiles gritted out. "Stop being such a self-sacrificing _asshole_!"

"Stiles…" Derek whispered, his eyes pleading with the human. But neither of them got a chance to say anything else before the witch dropped a small pouch which made a soft thump as it hit the carpet. Stiles realised too late that it was a hex bag as it burst to release a blue powder into the air around them. A second later and both Stiles and Derek were unconscious.

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Stiles woke up in his own bed. From the dim light being cast in through his bedroom window, Stiles would guess it was the mid-afternoon. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep for – but, like the witch had implied, if they wanted you as a sacrifice then they wouldn't waste time. Derek was probably dead moments after his eyes had closed. A sob rumbled in Stiles' chest. He didn't want to be forced to believe it but his eyes began to sting with unshed tears and his chest was aching. He could barely breathe as he sat up on the edge of the bed and placed his head between his legs – trying to force air into his lungs.

Warm hands were suddenly gripping his sides and Stiles jumped away from them on instinct.

"Stiles, hey. Calm down, it's okay," a voice rumbled quietly and Stiles looked up into Derek's eyes. He didn't understand. Had he died too? Stiles flung himself forward and into Derek's warm grip. If he could still get panic attacks in heaven then it sure did suck balls.

"I don't understand," Stiles whispered, "she was going to kill you. I don't understand."

"I think she underestimated the torture skills of an Argent," Derek muttered and Stiles' head shot back but Derek wasn't meeting his eyes.

"What happened?" Stiles asked gently, his heart in his throat.

"Once I knew you'd been taken, we went to talk to the witches that we captured last week. But they gave up their leader way too easily… Chris eventually found out what she was planning and he brought in reinforcements," Derek ended with a scowl.

"More hunters?" Stiles asked and Derek nodded. Well _that_ wasn't good. The more hunters that knew the pack existed, the more under threat it would be. Stiles eyes widened in realisation that, not only had Derek been alone with a group of hunters, but he had been knocked unconscious by the witch's hex bag and they could have killed him without any effort at all. "Why would you do that?" Stiles practically shouted and Derek pushed his hand over Stiles' mouth to make him be quiet.

"Shh… your Dad is home and he doesn't know I'm here. He thinks you're passed out from the flu," Derek whispered to him and Stiles nodded to signal Derek to remove his hand. Sure, the Sheriff knew about werewolves and witches now, but Stiles didn't want to bring him further into this mess than he had to be.

"You were literally putting your life in the hands of _hunters_! Are you crazy? They could have killed you," Stiles whispered angrily once Derek had removed his hand.

"Stiles…" Derek breathed and then looked away as he got up off the bed, "go downstairs and get some food. You've been asleep for nearly three hours." Derek walked to the window then and opened it but before he could climb out, a thought suddenly hit Stiles.

"Why are you here? I mean, not that I mind, but Argent wouldn't have taken you back here too. Did he?" Derek froze before replying.

"I woke up an hour ago and just came to check on you," he said and slipped out before Stiles could say anything else.

[] [] []

Stiles didn't go back into school the next day. He could have done but he decided there was something he'd much more prefer to do.

To: **Scott  
**Sent: **11:01am  
****Have you told all the pack yet about what happened with the witches?**

Stiles waited anxiously for the reply as he tied his shoe laces and jingled his car keys.

From: **Scott  
**Received: **11:06am  
****Hey, dude. Yeah they all know. How you feeling?**

To: **Scott  
**Sent: **11:06am  
****Im fine. So everyone is at school? Theyre all fine?**

Stiles pried a little further. He _needed_ to be sure that the entire pack was at the school and no one was at Derek's loft before he went over.

From: **Scott  
**Received: **11:07am  
****Yeah of course why?**

Stiles didn't bother replying. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and jumped into his jeep. He had spent all the previous night thinking over what the witch had said to him and now he needed answers from Derek. He didn't pause after turning the car off. He just ran straight up to Derek's loft. In hind sight, he probably should have taken the lift. Derek had the door open and a worried look on his face before Stiles had even reached his floor.

"Stiles, what's wrong?" Derek asked, probably thinking that the only other times Stiles had voluntarily run, outside of lacrosse, was when he was running for his life.

"What's a mate?" Stiles panted out instead of answering and Derek's face closed off immediately. Stiles stood there, catching his breath and waiting for Derek to speak for several seconds.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Derek replied and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I _know_ you can lie better than that."

Derek averted his gaze as he sighed and that was all the conformation Stiles needed to know that Derek was keeping things from him. He'd been too tired last night to do any research into mates so anything Derek could tell him would be new information. Stiles waited as patiently as he could for Derek to do something, say _anything_.

"Stiles… you don't need to worry about it," Derek said eventually and Stiles just wanted to groan in annoyance. He pushed past Derek to get into his loft and Derek let him – looking uncertain as he closed the door.

"I want to know, Derek. I _deserve_ to know," Stiles said forcefully.

"Sometimes when a werewolf falls in love, they form a mating bond… I don't actually know anything about it, it's probably something to do with bringing them into the pack because it doesn't really do much more than effect the werewolf's senses. You're good at researching, I'm sure you'll be able to find out far more than I could tell you," Derek finished in a rush, obviously uncomfortable. Part of Stiles wanted to just leave so the werewolf could calm down… but he _needed to know_.

"Is what the witch said true? Am I your mate?" His heart was racing as he asked the question and waited anxiously for a reply.

"Yes," Derek whispered, so quiet that Stiles could barely hear him. Stiles' breath caught in his throat. This wasn't the kind of thing that happened to him – he was the scrawny boy who was always ignored, he fell for the supermodels but they didn't fall for him too – but here Derek was… admitting that he loved him.

"I love you," Stiles whispered and Derek's head shot up, making eye contact for the first time since Stiles had pushed his way into the loft. Stiles didn't know what else to say and so he didn't say anything. Instead he moved forward and grabbed Derek's jacket – using it to drag the werewolf in for a kiss. Derek responded to it instantly, holding him closer and pushing at him with his mouth. Stiles grinned against Derek's lips and wrapped his arms around the werewolf's broad shoulders. When they finally came up for air a few seconds later they were both breathing heavily.

_I did that_, Stiles thought, _I took a werewolf's breath away_.

"Why did you never tell me?" Derek asked after a few seconds and _what_?

"Well, why did _you_ never tell _me_?"

"I did. I called you my human for God's sake," Derek laughed and Stiles shook his head.

"That doesn't count. You didn't even remember who you were. And when I came over to talk about it when you got your memories back, you were all 'don't worry about it' and I –"

Derek kissed him again then, successfully cutting off Stiles' line of thought. Derek opened his mouth and licked at Stiles' mouth, asking for permission. Which Stiles granted, eagerly. He opened his mouth and brushed his tongue against Derek's gently. The werewolf moaned softly into Stiles' mouth and, yep, Stiles was hard.

"That's cheating," Stiles breathed after Derek pulled away moments later. But Stiles didn't let him move too far away. He finally had Derek and so he wanted to actually _have_ him. "I… um…" Stiles tried to speak but he for once couldn't find his words, so instead he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the condom he'd put there – waving it in front of Derek's face as an invitation. Derek smirked and raised one eyebrow.

"You brought a condom? A bit conceited of you, but alright."

"Not conceited, smart," Stiles said with a laugh and Derek dipped his head to kiss him again, biting on his lip gently as he pulled away. Derek leaned close to Stiles' ear and whispered to him.

"We don't need to condom, Stiles. I can't get diseases and I can't pass them on."

"But what if I get pregnant?" Stiles gasped and Derek chuckled soundlessly against him. Pulling away slightly to look Stiles in the eyes as he replied with a straight face.

"I think we can deal with that bridge if we cross it," Derek joked and Stiles leant in for another kiss – dropping the condom on the floor as he wrapped his arms around Derek instead. Derek placed his hands on Stiles' waist and push their hips together making Stiles gasp into the kiss. _Cheating_, Stiles wanted to say again. But that was definitely the kind of cheating he was on board with. Stiles rolled his hip against Derek who bit his lip in retaliation. And it was amazing. Stiles had never done something like this before but _God_, was he ready.

Derek was apparently ready too because he ran his hands down from Stiles' waist, cupping his ass, before gripping his thighs and pulling so Stiles had no choice but to wrap his legs around Derek's hips and gasp out in surprise.

Derek smirked at him and carried Stiles away from the living room and around the wall to his bed – where he laid him on the bed and crawled over him.

"Are you sure?" Derek asked as he kissed at Stiles' jaw.

"Yes, god damn it, I am _so_ sure!" Stiles tried to say. But Derek chose that moment to nip and suck at his skin – creating a hickey and making Stiles groan lewdly. So the words came out garbled and quiet. Derek seemed to understand them enough, though, because he huffed against Stiles' jaw and rolled his hips down and against Stiles' in one, slow, deliberate motion.

_This is it, Derek hale is going to kill me_, Stiles thought, not for the first time… but it _was_ the first time he was excited about it.

Stiles tugged at Derek's shirt… it was in the way. Why was _this_ the day that he decided to wear a shirt? No fair. He may have mumbled that out loud followed by the words "#notfair" because Derek was suddenly laughing into the crook of Stiles' neck. After a few seconds the werewolf placed a kiss on Stiles skin and then leant back to remove himself of his shirt.

"Better?" He asked with a smirk and Stiles marvelled at the site of Derek's abs as he nodded.

"Much better." Stiles sat up then and ran his fingers over the hot flesh of Derek's chest. "_So_ much better," he whispered as he brushed his hand over Derek's nipple. Stiles registered the twitch of Derek's hard cock through the denim jeans and smirked. Stiles leaned in closer and licked over the nipple – putting as much pressure on that movement as he could so that he could watch as Derek groaned and his cock twitched. It was very possible that Stiles' cock was very into the idea of watching Derek come undone by his own hands and tongue… and that was a little worrying – he didn't want to come _that_ quickly. So instead of continuing, he moved back and divested himself of his own shirts to allow himself a few seconds to calm down.

Derek was moving away a little then and Stiles wondered what he'd done wrong. Was Derek _that_ repulsed by his lack of abs? Stiles looked down at his stomach. It wasn't _that_ bad. Sure, he wasn't anything compared to Derek but Stiles didn't think that _anyone_ he knew was. Stiles didn't have much longer to worry though before he realised Derek was reaching down for the zipper on Stiles' jeans and had just moved out of the way. Derek smoothly unzipped and removed Stiles' jeans and boxers and in one movement he was suddenly _very naked_ on Derek's bed.

Stiles reached and pulled Derek back in towards him for a kiss with one hand as the over roamed over to Derek's jeans. It was harder then it looked to undo a button one-handed. After a few seconds, Stiles removed his other hand, from where it was tangled in Derek's hair, so he could finally undo the damn button. Stiles grinned in victory against Derek's lips and Derek laughed as he pulled back and helped to pull off his own jeans and briefs.

Stiles was more than happy to watch as Derek's cock sprung free of its denim confinement. He'd been wondering what it would look like for a _long time_. Wondered how long and thick it would be, the exact colour and how it would feel in Stiles' hand. So he reached out and touched it, trailing his fingertips lightly over Derek's uncut dick. It was a little thicker than he'd been expecting but actually wasn't _that much_ bigger than his own. Which was good, because he _definitely_ wanted Derek inside him but he wasn't sure how ready he'd be if Derek's dick was all that much bigger. As he continued his exploration, Derek dropped his forehead onto Stiles' shoulder.

"_Stiles_…" he whispered and, yep, he definitely liked hearing Derek say his name like _that_. Derek waited another few seconds before he pulled Stiles' hand away. "I want to taste you," the werewolf mumbled into Stiles' ear and he was most _definitely_ on board for some of that. He nodded eagerly and Derek helped Stiles move up the bed so he was lying down. Derek kissed him first, making his way down Stiles' body from his lips. It was slow and leisurely… like he wanted to spend forever memorising Stiles' body with his tongue.

Then he was at Stiles' hips. His eyes had been half closed the entire time he was making Stiles rive under him. But now he opened them and looked up at the teenager for one last confirmation. Stiles nodded again, utterly speechless, and Derek continued his path. His hot breath hovered around Stiles' dick for all of a second before Derek ran his tongue, flat, over Stiles' head.

Stiles sucked in a sharp gasp of air at the warm, wet contact. That was probably the best sensation that he'd ever experienced. Derek kept licking at the apex of Stiles' cock as the seconds rolled on. He pushed his tongue lightly into Stiles' slit and he had to resist bucking his hips. His breathing was fast and uneven and Derek had barely even done anything yet.

Derek removed his mouth momentarily and Stiles could feel the cool air settling on his wet dick. It made him shiver and Derek huffed a laugh at him. But the warm air frim Derek's breath felt so good. Derek went down again then, this time he kissed against the tip and slowly, torturously, he opened his mouth and lowered it down onto Stiles' dick which pulsed insanely against Derek's tongue. Stiles fisted his hands into the sheets of Derek's bed and whined.

"_Shit_. I am not going to last," he said when he got some of his breath back. Derek pulled back up off him.

"Then let's call this the warm up," Derek replied with a smirk and lowered himself back down. This time, when Stiles felt the warm heat of Derek's mouth wrap around him, it went much further than his head. It was slow still and Stiles just _knew_ that Derek was doing that on purpose to make him squirm and whine and beg. Because he _was_ begging. A litany of 'please', 'more' and 'Derek' were pouring out of his mouth uncontrollably.

And then Derek was deep-throating him, taking every inch of Stiles' dick into his mouth until his lips were pushed against Stiles' wiry hairs. And dear _God_ that was hot.

Then he began bob his head, slow at first but gathering speed. Stiles couldn't keep his eyes open much longer. He wanted to watch it all but he just couldn't stop himself from throwing his head back and moaning loudly as Derek's tongue and mouth worked him in ways that he didn't think could feel any better. The tightness in his balls was building and he knew he was moments from coming so he forced himself to speak coherently.

"I'm gonna come," Stiles warned but Derek just continued, he opened his eyes and looked down attempting to warn Derek. But the sight of Derek, eyes half-hooded as he looked back up at him, mouth stretched open over Stiles' dick and one hand working his own cock, made his words stop in his throat. He fell backwards and his hips shifted as his dick twitched incessantly and he came into Derek's waiting mouth.

Stiles felt a gentle sucking around the head of his cock and he knew that Derek was swallowing his come and milking him clean. The thought was too hot to process. He felt like a puddle. His bones and muscle were weak with the best orgasm he'd ever experienced and he just wanted to lie there and never get back up.

But Derek was pulling off his dick and making soft, lewd moans as he worked himself to completion. And Stiles wanted to be a part of that, okay? So, despite his body's best efforts to make him keep still and just go sleep, he leant up and reached out until his hand joined Derek's. He fell into the pace that Derek was putting and figured that he was close to coming too. Which was a shame. Stiles would definitely repay the favour soon. He wanted to know what Derek tasted like too.

Derek's eyes met Stiles' and flashed blue. It was incredible, helping him come undone, watching him unravel.

Derek tensed and came over Stiles' hand seconds later and they both dropped back onto the bed. Derek lay on top of him for a few seconds before rolling over and reaching for something in one of the draws in his bedside table. Stiles didn't pay much attention. He'd been mute since he came. His mind was just blank with pleasure and happiness. He looked down at his hand, covered in come, and brought it up to his mouth. He licked some away and thought over the taste – it wasn't too bad. A little salty and bitter, but no worse than what he'd been expecting.

"God damn it, Stiles," Derek breathed next to him and Stiles turned to see him holding a handful of tissues that he'd obviously just pulled from his draws. Stiles grinned and stuck one finger into his mouth, sucking away all of Derek's come from it and removing it with a pop. Derek watched before leaning over and capturing Stiles' mouth with his own. The kiss was dirty and amazing. There was no rush to it and Stiles loved feeling Derek's naked body flush against his own.

"I love you," Stiles murmured when they finally broke apart. Derek smiled and used the tissues to clean the rest of the come off of Stiles' hand.

"I love you too."

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**Like I said before, this got out of hand. I hope it didn't end up too muddled though because I enjoyed taking a break from my other fics to write this. Let me know what you think in the comments. I thought I might have rushed it a little bit, do you think I should have made it into two chapters and expanded it? What did you like? Not like? You know the drill.**

**Please review. **


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